


First Date

by OberonsEarring



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OberonsEarring/pseuds/OberonsEarring
Summary: Krakoa is a go, so are Wolverine and Cyclops.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 57





	First Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [menel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/gifts).



> For menel - thank you for keeping me going as far as writing fan fics go. I'm not nearly as talented as you, but I appreciate your support. I'm not a confident writer - nor, should I be - so that you talk about the process with me is amazing. Thank you!

It was always the tie. Every single important occasion in his life came down to the tie and his inability to put it on properly.

“You look nice, hon,” Jean said, swifting a finger across his shoulder in order to get him to turn around. Aggravated with himself, he threw his hands up and sighs, turning so that she could see his blundering. “Oh, Scott! You're nervous!”

Even though his gaze at her remained steel, he couldn't help the blush that crept upon his cheeks, turning them nearly the shade of his lenses. He coughed politely at her humor and waited for her to fix the tie . Though he'd fumbled with it for half an hour, it took her only minutes, and the blue and red striped silk hung down perfectly. He turned back to the mirror and swallowed. “This is wrong,” he finally said. “I'm going to call it off --”

“Hey! Hey!” Jean stalled him, placing hands on both his shoulders. She leaned in so that her forehead touched against his chin. “Don't be like this. This is what you want. This is what you've always wanted.”

“But, you--”

“Scott, dear, I'm a telepath. I'm just glad that you're finally acting on it.” She turned her attention to the doorway, a smile upon her face. “Sweetie, your date's here.”

Logan stepped into the room, his tie blue and gray compared to Scott's stripes. His tux was stiffer than the taller mutant's, as he had never worn his, and Scott had had his for years. He took a deep breath and took another step forward, a proffered bouquet of deep red roses in his hand.

Scott smiled and carefully took the flowers from Logan's hand. “What color are they?” he asked the mutant.

Wolverine shrunk at the question having forgotten completely that his date couldn't tell their color. Nervously, he stuttered a few times before Jean placed an assuring hand upon his back. “It's okay, Logan. He won't bite. Much.”

Wild blue eyes stared up at the red-haired woman, then another deep breath as he returned his attention to Scott. “Red,” he finally uttered. “Sort of like blood.”

The younger mutant quirked a brow and let out a soft giggle. “I think I can remember what that looks like.” 

Knowing the two men would stall even further, Jean took the bouquet and ushered them down the hallway and into the living room. A bottle of wine and a racy romance novel beside the sofa, she placed her hands on her hips and feigned anger. “I've got a whole night planned, so you two need to get out of here.”

“Jeannie --”

“No, Logan. Get out! And, I don't want either of you back here until morning!”

On his way out the door, Logan mouthed 'thank you' to the woman, who gave him a wink in return.

The idea of a date had been Scott's idea, or rather both Jean and Logan allowed him to come to that conclusion after a night of a bit too much wine and a deep conversation about the Captain Commander. It had taken Jean a couple of months to get him to finally admit his attraction for the older mutant, and then months more for Logan to make it clear that he would accept the offer of a date should one come up. Though Scott knew by New Year's that their attraction was mutual, he didn't ask until January for a Valentine's day date. (“He's trying to be romantic,” Jean had explained to Logan, and also reminded him that Scott had never quite grown out of his awkward stage when it came to romance. “But, he's trying.”)

A parade of hoots and whistled followed them as they exited the portal to the Moon House and set foot on Krakoa proper. Though most of the mutants had witnessed this slow attraction come to a boil between the two, there were still bets on what happen. Odds on Jean and Scott were five to one, Emma was nine one, and Logan was a fifty-two to one, ranking just below Domino and Boom Boom (who had entered her own name into the system because she thought for sure she could rank above smelly old Logan. What? With a body like hers?) 

Scott shied away from the ooh's and aah's and the passing of money back and forth between the participants (including Boom Boom who had bet two hundred on herself, and now lost her entire fortune). But, a sudden fog rolled in, and the two were invisible. Logan caught her sent just before the portal, grabbed Scott's hand, and found Ororo calmly waiting at the end. “Have fun tonight,” she told Wolverine, placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and to Cyke she extended a warm hand knowing that he wouldn't appreciate a wrinkle in his suit. “Don't be out too late. There's work to do in the morning. We are building a nation, after all.”

The portal was a temporary one, just for them, opening up in Kyoto, Japan. “This is okay, right?” Scott asked, fully understanding his date's connection to this country. “If it's not, I've got a back-up plan. We could--”

“No,” Logan eased, hoping to settle the younger mutant's racing mind. “This is fine. I even recognize a few of these buildings.”

“They're that old?”

The shorter mutant laughed with a scoff, a deft hand to Scott's lower spine. “You don't mind if I pick the places, do you?”

“Well--”

“Trust me, Boy Scout. I'm going to show you a Japan you never knew about.”

Logan didn't notice how anxious Scott had become – largely because he was two steps in front of the man – but also, in his excitement about being back in Japan, he'd forgotten how closely his date liked to stick to plans. However, there was no stopping him now, not with the need for a good bowl ramen and an eel bowl plastered in the back of his mind. “Izumi owes me a favor or two,” the older mutant explained before walking into the stall. She'll treat us good, and even drag her wreck of a husband out to make some eel bowls.”

“Logan--”

“It's okay, Slim. I've got --” Scott was a man who made plans, who made plans for his planning, and planning for those two. On any given day, he had hundreds of different tactical scenarios running through his head, and looking at the Captain Commander now, he was sure that Scott had planned this date down to the last detail. “Do I get some tepenyaki out of this?”

“I sort of made --”

“Plans. Got it. Lead the way, One-eye.”

They walked apart, a space between them – one that Logan recognized as nerves and awkwardness. He hated it – that distance. Saw it as further disputes, as conflicts. He wanted to bridge it, but every step he made, Scott moved further away. “Slim,” he said, as they walked across the docks, “Don't you want to hold my hand?”

It was something he'd forgotten. Even as he led Wolverine down the old rickety boards, he'd forgotten that personal contact. “I'll be more astute,” he said, grabbing hold of that rough, calloused hand. “I'll figure it out.” But, even with that promise in mind, his nerves still played the better part of his motions.

“You mean _we'll_ figure it out, right?” the older mutant flashed a smile up to his date. He could see the faint blush on Cyclops' cheeks. 

At the end of the docks sat a large row boat with two men inside – one was a sushi chef of some renown in Kyoto, and the other, the boat captain. They recognized Scott immediately, welcoming him down onto the boat with big smiles on their faces. “Cyclops-san,” the captain said with a bow. “I'm glad you have come. Tonight you will dine in luxury.” 

Taken aback by such a grand gesture, Wolverine said nothing as he was led to the bench opposite the chef. Scott sat down next to him, and was once again reminded about the space between them. “It's okay to sit closer, Cyke. I won't bite. Yet.”

The taller mutant coughed and adjusted his tie, the blush – this time – creeping up around his ears and the back of his neck. With another nod by Wolverine, the taller mutant moved closer to his companion, and then Logan bridged the gap further. Thighs touching now, the older mutant's foot placed beside his date's, and a short, robust arm at the younger mutant's side, and Logan leaned in feeling the warmth emanate off of Scott's body. 

He could hear the Captain Commander's heart beat wild in his chest, and the smell of pheromones in the air – a delicate, could-be intoxicating scent if Scott wasn't so good at controlling his emotions. It wasn't long before the man beside him took a breath and his heart went back to its normal pace – slow and steady, a sign of health and iron will.

The chef was as extraordinary as his reputation, taking his time to fan the rice so it was cooked just right, refusing to neglect a single grain of its seasoning and perfection. With care, he sliced the tuna belly, showing his guests the fine lines of fat that gave the fish its lusciousness, and then preparing their first course of tuna belly and steamed sea beans. Fine sake was served, but not too much. Just enough to turn Scott's skin a touch pink, and loosen a soft smile from his lips. 

Dinner lasted until dusk, the calming waves and the delicious food finally coming to an end. Above them, the stars hid behind clouds, and the moon glinted off the water as they rose from the boat. This time, Logan didn't ask as they said goodbye to boat, he simply grabbed Scott's hand and felt the man seize for a moment before twining their fingers together. “I keep expecting you to stab me,” Scott quietly joked as he led his partner down the yellow-light tinged streets of Kyoto. He knew where they were going, but refused to give up the surprise.

“Me too,” Wolverine joked back, taking the moment to stop the taller mutant and tender rough fingers over wrist and just under the sleeves of the charcoal tux. Scott swallowed hard, staring down at Logan, his heart sped up, and in his awkwardness, he stepped away. The older man was more than disappointed, but Jean had warned him that her ex was a slow burn. After all, it had taken him most of his adult life to even admit that he had feelings for Logan, so it only made sense that it would take him some time longer to come to grips with it. “But, I won't,” Logan finished after the silence had gone on too long. “I won't stab you. Not tonight, anyway.” A cheeky grin, and took Scott's hand once again, and let the other man silently lead them to their next destination.

And, that destination surprised Wolverine to no end. “A geisha house?” he scoffed, his eyes wide and mouth open.

“There are so few left that I thought that – It was a difficult reservation –Do you not want---”

“You understand what a geisha house is, right?”

“A place for entertainment?”

Logan raised thick black brows. “Well, that's one way to put it.” With a slap on the back, he walked with Scott to the double doors where they were greeted by the Madame. She gave her welcome in broken English, bowing deeply at the waist, and led the two men into a room of comfort. Soft pillows lined the floor – big enough to fit three or four people, a rainbow of bright silks and tassels. Magnificently carved lanterns – of dragons and tigers, great battles and simple hopes – hung from the ceiling, each with taper inside, their flames casting a soft, ethereal glow on the room beneath. “Please,” the Madame said with another bow, showing her customers to a set of midnight blue pillows in the center of the room. 

Wolverine immediately took the pillow, lounging himself as two geisha in training brought green tea that they whipped into a foam. Smiling, urging the men to drink – even though they were both full – they waited on them hand and foot until the entertainment was ready. That's when the sake came out. That's when a beautiful woman took the stage, her koto poised in her arms, a simple instrument, but beautiful as a guide to her voice.

She sang the song of a farmer who met the daughter of his feudal lord. She was as a star, bright but so distant, far away, something that he could never touch. She spoke fondly of his rice, how his fields were always shining with water, and her smile took his breath. But, the farmer was not a brave man. He was lowly, weak – in both constitution and confidence. He would never please a lady of the main house. He would never be a lord in his own right. But, in his dreams he was a samurai – a proud warrior who lopped the heads of her enemies, who made his name within the daimyo and earned his place at the woman's side. 

Though Scott couldn't understand a word, he was entranced by the song, his breath so quiet in order to hear every word. Logan watched him carefully, how he hung on the phrases and listened so closely to the tune, and when the song was done, both men clapped. “She was pretty good,” Logan said, Scott nodded silently, still mesmerized by the song. Logan filled his glass with sake, and selection of small cakes was brought to their table. “You should relax, Slim,” he continued. “We don't get many days like this.”

“I'm relaxed.”

“Like hell.”

Scott smiled and took a sip. “What was she singing about?”

“A love that could never be had.”

Another nod, another sip. He understood the feeling.

Next, came the dancers – graceful winds that stepped across the stage, their movements perfectly timed and in sync. Even Logan was spellbound this time, having not seen an act like this in years. His hand rested gently on Scott's lower back as he watched the beauties perform. 

Tipsy on the sake, Scott had one more plan for them, and then they could go home. “I know this is what you've been waiting for,” he said – the first time he'd spoke in an hour. 

“Don't tell me we're going to see a sumo match?”

“No.”

Through the alleys and yellow lights, they came upon a small, dusty bar at the end of a road. Yes, it was Logan's perfect place – from the stale scent of beer to the husk of cigar – the older mutant was immediately in love. “How'd you find this place, Slim?”

“Spent a week or so scoping out the best places,” he said. “Care for a pint?”

“You sure you can handle it? You drank quite a bit back there.”

Cyke smiled and opened the door for his partner. It was a quiet place, shabby. Two men sat watching a small black and white television at the front, while Logan and Scott took a booth in the back. The bar tender immediately recognized Scott, and put a bottle of rot-gut whiskey on the table. “Couldn't spring for the good stuff?” Wolverine teased. 

“Thought I'd keep it more your style,” Scott joked back.

The first drink did not go down smoothly. Both men winced and pounded their chest as the burn flooded their stomachs. A shared laugh, and then a second which was much easier than the first. “It's been quite a night, Cyke.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Must have taken a lot of planning.”

“Nothing I couldn't handle.” 

Logan poured another drink for each of them, and slid in beside the suddenly nervous man, moving Scott against the wall. “You can't escape now,” he laughed. 

“I wouldn't think of it.” A shaky handed laid to rest on the shorter man's knee. Treading up chest, over shoulder, he finally brushed his long fingers against Logan's jaw, feeling the stubble of an all-day wait. And slowly, he placed his lips upon Logan's.

It was as if a lightbulb had burst inside Wolverine's brain, shattered so completely as Scott's tongue sought entrance to that beautiful mouth. Swept up in too much feeling, overwhelmed by the static that raced across his spine, he was slow to keep up, the sensations far too pleasurable. For years, he'd wanted this. More than he wanted Jeannie, Mariko, Itsu. For years, this is what he'd dreamed about – a dark corner and Cyclops' lips. 

The kiss didn't last nearly long enough.

“Sorry.” Scott looked to the table, his skin burning with both lust and embarrassment. 

Bewildered, Logan threw his hands in the air. “Why the hell are you apologizing?”

“I should have asked first. I've just waited so long to do that. I never thought I could have this.”

Logan calmed himself, studying that red-lensed face in front of him. “You asked for that song, didn't you?”

“I wanted you to know how I felt.”

“Oh shit, Scottie. I mean, don't get me wrong, this whole thing's been romantic, but you don't need to jump through hoops with me. Give me a beer and comfy couch, and I'm good.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah, Jean said I was overdoing it --”

“No,” Logan interrupted. He took hold of Scott's face, a firm, but non-painful grip. “You didn't overdo a thing. But, I don't expect this every time. This was something. This was something I'm never going to forget. But more importantly, I just want to spend time with you. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Scott swallowed again, took a drink, and released a long held breath. “Okay.”

Logan laughed at the brevity, slapping his date on the shoulder. “I'm not ready to go home yet.”

“Neither am I.”

“Good. I know a great place. I'll show it to you, so long as I get another kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> If there's something I can do to improve my writing, please let me know. Constructive criticism is completely welcome - bad or good, I want to get better as a writer.


End file.
